


Kingda Ka

by NiciJones, reversedandremanded



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Angst, Confessions, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Panic Attack, anxiety attack, lots and lots of emotions, this is an emotional roller coaster sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-06-16 07:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15432108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiciJones/pseuds/NiciJones, https://archiveofourown.org/users/reversedandremanded/pseuds/reversedandremanded
Summary: Free time is hard to come by, especially for rising star Timothée Chalamet, who is shooting a movie across the Atlantic from his home in New York. When he does have a precious weekend to himself, he books a flight back, not to see his family and friends, but to visit his best friend, Armie, who is performing his first play on Broadway.What he doesn't anticipate, though, is the emotional roller coaster that the weekend becomes. A Kingda Ka, if you will. The question is: will it go up or down in the end?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The two authors are writing this as a back-and-forth collab, where reversedandremanded writes a paragraph from Timmy's point of view and NiciJones responds with a paragraph from Armie's. We had no overarching plan or plot going in, just reacting to each other's ideas as they unravel. Enjoy! :)

Timmy braced himself as he heard the captain’s voice come over the intercom. _Flight attendants, please prepare for initial descent into JFK International Airport._ He grabbed his arm rests with white knuckles. Despite the amount of flying he’d been doing recently, he never felt any less anxious about it. He had been in the air for about 8 hours, and while he had intended to sleep through most of it, he’d barely even been able to close his eyes. His mind wouldn’t stop going a mile a minute, excited to surprise Armie for a weekend visit but still in shock that he was actually going through with it. He knew based on fairly frequent catch-up phone calls that Elizabeth and the kids would be taking care of bakery business in San Antonio this weekend, but what if Armie was angry with him for coming? What if he was reading too much into their texts and facetimes, over-analyzing and finding things that weren’t really there? After the plane landed with little fanfare, Timmy went straight for the subway. While a cab would be faster, and he certainly had budgeted enough to take one, Timmy always felt a certain magic in riding the subway. He loved it, even when the platforms were humid and sweltering like they were now in the July heat, and even when the AC in some of the cars was broken. He had landed early Friday morning, hoping to pack as much time into his visit as possible. But this was a trip intended specifically for Armie. He wasn’t going to his apartment, didn’t even tell his friends or parents that he would be in for a couple days. So Timmy figured he might as well enjoy one of his favorite New York experiences before he making it to the apartment Armie was staying in this summer. 

Theatre is great. Who wouldn't love to hear the reactions to your acting straight away when you have issues evening watching your own movies because you think your acting is so terrible. Because you _know_ it is. Only one occasion stood out: the one time it had been too real. He couldn't stand watching that one either. Armie coughs and takes another drag of his blunt, enjoying the numbness that weed always brought with it. He had been fighting with Elizabeth a lot more often. The long evenings trying to win the favour of the audience and playing the anxiety game before every show were wearing him down. He can't stand her giving him shit these days. He's wound-up, emotionally charged and anxious every hour of every day lately and it was only a question of time before the kids caught on. The last thing he wanted. They shouldn't be concerned with his petty problems. He drank and smoked too much to keep calm and he knew it was only a farce of a life that he was leading but he didn’t know how to escape. So he just leaned back and took another deep drag.

When Timmy finally walked up the subway steps and was greeted by the midmorning sun at Columbus Circle, he still didn’t feel ready. There was a whirring in his chest that wouldn’t go away, and he wanted to seem perfectly cool and nonchalant when Armie opened the door to see him for the first time in months. Giving himself a pep talk inside his head, Timmy walked around Armie’s block a few times (it felt more productive than pacing back and forth in front of the building). When he felt he had gained about as much composure as was possible given the situation, he walked into the lobby. Recognized by the doorman, Timmy was able to make his way up to Armie’s floor without a call being made first to ruin the surprise. As he approached Armie’s door, he jumped in place a few times, shaking out his limbs and trying to get his body as loose and relaxed as possible, taking what he’d learned in years of drama classes and applying them to his own anxiety. Finally, he knocked three times with his right fist. 

Armie was staring up at the ceiling watching the clouds of smoke dissolve into thin air when the knock at the door sounded. Huh? He didn't expect any visitors. Nick and Ash weren't going to come into town anytime soon and Elizabeth was in San Antonio. He didn't really expect any of his castmates to pop a surprise visit on him. He decided musing would not help and stumbed the cigarette out before getting up and walking over to the door. He spent half a thought on how terrible he must look with deep, dark rings under his eyes and clothes from yesterday. Who gives a shit? Certainly not Armie. Might as well show everyone what a fuck-up he is, not that it's news to anyone. He pulled the door open and growled a "What?" before he realised who it was. His breath stuttered and caught in his lungs. But he was in _England_! Armie's hands shoot up to try and pet his hair down and rub his face. He hated himself for not having his shit more under control suddenly. He didn't want Timmy to see him like this, afraid he'd turn his back on him one day when he registered the failure that Armie Hammer was. He didn't want that. Although he didn't deserve him, he _wanted_ him in his life. "Timmy." He managed to breathe, still too stunned to move.

The second Armie opened the door, all the preparation Timmy had done was gone. He heard Armie say his name and it pushed him over the edge. Before he could think to stop himself, Timmy’s arms were wrapped around Armie’s back. It took a moment for Armie to react, for him to put his arms around Timmy too. _Oh shit_ Timmy thought. _This was a bad idea. He’s mad I’m here. He just wanted a weekend alone. I shouldn’t have come._ Timmy continued to chastise himself as they pulled away from the hug, but thought he might see the glint of a smile behind Armie’s ice-blue eyes.

"Tim." He repeated and felt, despite everything, a heavy weight fall from his chest. Timmy’s touch instantly warmed him. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in England- Shit, nothing happened though, right?" He asked as he moved to the side to let Timmy in. There had to be a reason he'd come to New York and had managed to pop in. And since he hadn't even warned him it had to have been something spontaneous, something urgent. He felt sick all of a sudden. He knew Timmy's friends and family and would regret if anything happened to them. Not only for what Timmy would have to endure but honestly, mostly that. He'd hate to see Timmy's spirit broken.

Timmy can see worry set into Armie’s face as he follows him into the living room. “No, no! I’m sorry, dude, I didn’t mean to freak you out. I just thought… maybe it would be fun to surprise you for a weekend?” Timmy suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed, much more than he had been expecting. He fidgeted with his hands and bounced his right leg up and down after he settled onto the couch. _I shouldn’t have expected him to want to see me. He’s just being a good friend. He just wants to make sure I’m not in trouble. It’s nothing deeper than that._ Armie’s expression felt impossible to read. Timmy started to get up, walking towards the door and letting his anxieties get the better of him. “I’m sorry, I--” 

Armie caught his wrist. “No, no. It’s cool. Your parents and friends will be happy to see you,” He pointed out and only realized that it sounded like he wasn’t enjoying it a second too late. “Sorry man. I’m- a bit high right now? Of course, I’m fucking happy to see you. When did you land? Want something to drink?” He asked, getting a beer out for himself because he could feel himself getting wound up again already. He hadn’t seen Timmy for so long and was suddenly determined to show him the Armie he knew and admired. But that felt more like holding onto a pile of glass shards than anything else. How had he ever convinced Timmy that he was something good , something _worth_ his time and attention.

As Timmy finally started to relax and allow himself to believe that Armie was glad to see him, the exhaustion began to catch up with him. Maybe their first day together could be something relaxed, like watching movies and catching up; Timmy wasn’t sure he had the energy for a full on Armie Adventure just yet. “Just a couple hours ago,” he responded, “I took the subway straight here. Armie… are you drinking a beer at 10:30 am?” He wasn’t sure whether to be charmed by the Armie he knew and loved, the one who didn’t give a fuck about what others thought or when was an “appropropriate” time to start drinking, or to be worried. He knew that Armie was still struggling to adjust to their new schedules, of them being on differents continents all summer, not seeing each other as often and without the excuse of the continued press tour. As much as this surprise trip was to see his best friend who he missed so dearly, and who he had spent the last 2 years trying to shake from his every waking thought, it was also to check on him. Timmy had a protective instinct for those he cared about, and he wasn’t convinced by Armie’s charade, even from across the Atlantic ocean, that everything was peachy keen. 

Armie shrugged but was secretly amazed by how easily Timmy still managed to read him. “I’m already high. What difference is it going to make?” He asked and took a large gulp. How did Timmy still manage to strip him so bare? Why did he matter so much? “Don’t you want to- I dunno, go to your place and sleep some?” He asked and plopped down at the other end of the couch. He held the can tight, hoping it would act like a shield between him and Timmy, protecting what his cracked mask wasn’t hiding. “Or are you sick of fish-n-chips and tea? We can get a proper burger if you’re hungry?” He started picking at the seams of his jogging pants, unable to look at Timmy.

“Yeah. Actually, my plan was just to spend this weekend with you” Timmy stuttered. “We normally get interrupted by life and family that I thought… maybe just a weekend devoted to my...best friend?” Timmy grabbed the beer out of Armie’s hand and took a long sip, mostly to make the mood more friendly after he had let himself be so vulnerable for a minute, afraid that the pause before “best friend” was telling. He had forgotten how much restraint he often needed when talking to Armie, needing to be careful not to let something he actually meant slip out. After he handed the can back, he gave Armie a grin, assuring him that this would not be a weekend for chastising or talking about making “healthy choices”.

Armie blinked. He’d stared at Timmy’s bopping Adam’s Apple and _knew_ it was because he was high. He let the statement sink in. A weekend just for him? Seeing Timmy all the time just like in Crema? It sounded like heaven and hell. Heaven, because he would never get enough of his presence and hell, because it was not going to be like it had been in Crema. It never would be again. That was why the idea of a sequel scared him, but making the first movie had scared him, too, and he wouldn’t give those memories up for anything. He’d trust Luca. He trusted Luca completely. The thought that Timmy had just flown over an entire ocean only to spend time with him made something in his chest tighten. The way Timmy said _you_ was something he’d never tire of. _With you_. It sounded like a whispered promise. Something forbidden but desired and he couldn’t figure out why. _Heaven and hell_. “That’s great! I can call in sick and we can do the rounds in the local clubs!” He suggested, hoping his enthusiasm would hide that his voice was slightly choked up.

Even through all the excitement, Timmy still felt the tinge of worry in his chest. The club? Armie was not a big dancer, not unless he was really drunk. He was conflicted, there was something fantasmic, magical, all-consuming about being with Armie on a crowded dance floor. Surrounded by people but only able to pay attention to each other. It was the only situation where Timmy could get as close to Armie as he always longed to be, thinking he was able to convince Armie that is was all a fun, drunken jest. “I don’t want to make you miss any shows! Part of me coming here was to see you on stage.” Timmy added hesitantly. “To see you flub your lines in front of all those people.”

Armie gave a dry laugh. “That’s probably what you can call it.” He admitted and drained the can, swearing he could still taste Timmy’s spit. “But you gotta cut me some slack then. I’m not twenty like _other people_. First the show and then a boys’ night out? Go easy on me, brother.” He tossed the can onto the table and didn’t care when it rolled down. Who fucking cared about anything these days after all? He was still excited about the prospect of spending this much time with Timmy in the steamy atmosphere of a club. “Tell me about England. How’s working with Joel?” He asked. He’d seen the photos on Instagram and Timmy had always seemed happy whenever he talked about going out with him so he technically knew but he also liked making himself hurt because it wasn’t supposed to hurt at all. It was good that Timmy got along well with him. But how could you not fall for Timmy? He’d had his idols begging at his feet in the shortest span of time.

After the term “boys’ night out,” Timmy was a goner. He became so anxious and excited so quickly that he completely missed the second half of whatever Armie had said. Finally, he felt assured that Armie wanted him there, that he was glad Timmy had flown thousands of miles for just a weekend together. His mind wandered to the sweaty dance floor of a club, with drunk and wandering hands, hips moving closer together. Based on his expectant gaze, it seemed like Armie had asked a question, but for the life of him, Timmy had no idea what it was. He blamed it on sleepiness, “Sorry dude, what? I slept maybe an hour last night.” All of which was true, but had little to do with his lack of focus in this moment.

Armie chuckled softly and shook his head. Timmy had always been a nervous flyer. Something he’d only experienced after Crema. Armie often made fun of him or poked his side to startle another reaction out of him because he was afraid of fear on Timmy’s face. “Never mind. It’s not that important. Do you want to take a nap or something?” He asked. Armie himself had suffered quite a lot from his insomnia again lately. _It’s not insomnia. I’m just not tired._ Surprising how much energy he had to lie to himself. “God knows I slept poorly last night and could probably use a nap myself.” He yawned to proof it.

“Yes please,” Timmy said, smirking. And before Armie could catch him, Timmy sprinted into the bedroom and jumped on the bed, splaying his limbs out across the covers. “I call the bed!” Timmy yelled as Armie walked into the room. “I was in coach all night. My legs were so cramped; it’s the least you could do,” he said, rolling onto his back and looking at Armie, raising an eyebrow with a breathy giggle. He was hoping Armie would fight him on it, being intentionally smug as an invitation. No matter how exhausted he was, he silently urged Armie to come wrestle him for the bed like they used to do back in Crema after long days of filming. His wants and thoughts were so loud in his own head, he was afraid Armie could hear them too. 

“Awww acting like you’re the tall one and know what cramped even means.” Armie drawled and made a show of standing up. The sight and words took him back to Crema right away. It had been easy from the start for them and maybe Timmy’s words were a little bit thick and the way he sprawled a little bit too suggestive but they were both afraid if they were too fine with their language the other wouldn’t understand and they were not ready to find that out. So he walked over and towered over Timmy for a moment. “Brat.” He growls and grabbed his ankles, pulling him to the edge of the bed. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. So cocky.” He squatted down and attacks Timmy’s side right away.

Timmy desperately grabbed at the covers as Armie pulled him off the bed by his ankles, trying to keep himself planted. As he thudded to the floor and Armie went for his side, an uproarious giggle escaped his mouth. He had always hated how ticklish he was, how useless it rendered him to his own defense. But Armie’s touch was rarely soft enough to tickle; it was normally firm and a little painful, though timmy had no complaints. Armie had clearly found the sensitive spot just to the right of Timmy’s stomach, and his legs began flailing as his breathing became louder with laughter. Despite his best attempts to wiggle away, Armie had a firm enough grasp on his left shoulder, and he was debilitated enough by the tickling, that he was stuck. For the first time in what felt like months, Timmy was out of his own head. All he could focus on was the physical sensation of Armie’s touch: the light tickle at his side and the hard pressure on his shoulder. “Mercy!” he cried, “Mercy!”. 

Armie grinned. It felt like the first time in months the ever-present weight on his chest was gone. He couldn’t quite believe the chuckle that broke out of his chest and he was laughing and felt heady. “Nope, you should’ve thought about that earlier.” He grabbed him under his arms and threw him on the bed with a groan. He kicked his shoes off and followed him, sitting on his legs so he could continue to tickle him.

Timmy had never liked being tickled, it had always made him feel out of control, which fed his anxiety. But this was different. While he still felt a constant need to guard his heart, Timmy felt safe with Armie. He trusted him entirely. There was something freeing about the fact that with anyone else, this would have been an uncomfortable, unpleasant, nerve-wracking moment. But Armie wasn’t anyone else. With his arms free, Timmy tried to hit Armie’s torso with loose fists, but it was no use. The man was built like a tree trunk. This was normally a fact Timmy reveled in, lusted after, even, but right now it just gave Armie yet another advantage over him. His small punches had no effect.

Armie abandoned Timmy's side in favour of catching his wrists. “So cute. First being mouthy and trying to escape his punishment. Whatever am I going to do about that?” He asked. His thumbs were drawing circles on Timmy's delicate wrists, always eager to make sure he was really there. With a devilish smile he leaned forward and pressed his hands on his pillow. “All caged up, little bird.” He cooed and switched so he was holding both wrists with only one hand. He knew exactly where Timmy's weak spots were and where he only had to jab and nudge a little to get him to squirm, so that was where he focused his attention now, relishing in Timmy's breathless gasps.

Timmy was now truly pinned, all his limbs locked in place under Armie. His breathing was shallow, and not only because he had used so much energy fruitlessly fighting against Armie’s grip. Armie had size, weight, and strength over him, all of which Timmy was keenly aware of. He knew that the only way he could gain the advantage would be to catch Armie off guard. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, Timmy listened to his instincts with little regard for a filter. With Armie leaning over him tauntingly, their faces were less than a foot apart. Straining his upper body against the restrained movement of his wrists and feeling a pain and pull in his shoulders, Timmy quickly moved to eliminate the distance between their faces. His mouth was on Armie’s before he knew what was happening. It was meant to be an innocent peck to surprise him, but Armie’s lips parted seemingly on instinct rather than by conscious choice. Timmy knew he had him, he knew this was the moment. Just as Timmy felt the soft inside of his parted lips, he knew Armie was just compromised enough for him to break his wrists free of Armie’s hold. With a quick twist of his torso, and a swift but hard push of his newly mobile arms on Armie’s shoulders, he flipped Armie onto his back. Now Timmy was on top, pinning Armie’s shoulders with the full weight of his body, one hand on either side, his legs straddled over Armie’s. “So easily distracted, dude,” Timmy said with a neutral face, “And so predictable.”

Armie stared up at him, breath coming in short gasps, heart beating too fast to be healthy. He knew he had to snap out of his stupor but Timmy had truly caught him off guard. _This was not good_. Armie thought the feeling of Timmy’s lips on his too bright in comparison to the last time he’d kissed his wife. He knew their sex had been lame and sparse lately and he should probably get off sometime soon. He shook his head. “Naughty little boy.” He rasped and, despite the grip he had on his arms and legs, he fought his way up until they were both sitting. “Nice little trick kid but I can just take my power back. So who does get the bed?” He let his arms fall down and settle on Timmy’s thighs loosely. “Would he be inclined to share with a poor old man with hurting limbs?” He asked and tipped his head back so he could look into his eyes.

“Oh, don’t pull that. You always kick my ass” Timmy responded, pushing his newly mussed hair hair out of his face. “As long as I don’t have to move, do whatever you want.” Timmy leaned back far enough to let his body flop so that he was lying down, moving slowly enough for Armie’s hands to follow him. “Set an alarm, though” he mumbled, pushing his head into the pillow, “I didn’t fly all the way here to sleep through the weekend.” Timmy yanked at the blanket but couldn’t get it to budge with Armie’s weight on top of it. 

Armie let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Somehow this was better than the time he'd spend with his wife lately. Somehow this felt good, like slow, languid afternoons in the hot Italian sun, dripping with sweat and praying for it to never end. It tasted like a bit of that heaven and Armie sighed when he flopped down next to Timmy. "It's way too warm to use the covers." He complained and reached for his phone, which had been charging on the nightstand the whole time. "You're so bossy." He mumbled and set an alarm in two hours before kicking his shin. "Now go to sleep."

As exciting as it was to be in bed next to Armie again, and as much as it made his whole body tingle like a limb that had just fallen asleep, Timmy was beyond exhausted. It took him only minutes to fall asleep.

Timmy startled awake to Armie’s alarm a short two hours later. Armie didn’t even budge, just kept on with his lumbering snore. Timmy reached over Armie and silenced the alarm himself. Figuring Armie could use a few more minutes of sleep, and still feeling dirty and sweaty from the long flight, Timmy resolved to take a shower. The cool water felt good after the nap, waking him up and readying him for whatever the rest of the day was going to bring. When he was done, he wrapped a towel around his waist and walked back out to the living room where he had left his suitcase. He fished out a clean pair of boxers and put them on, then used the towel to dry his curls. Walking back into the bedroom, he balled the towel up and threw it directly at Armie’s head. “Up and at ‘em, brutha!”

Armie groaned. He hadn't slept that contently for awhile. Waking up to a laughing and nearly naked Timmy was just as surprising. He couldn't help but notice the way his hair still smelled like his shampoo and the way the wet curls fell onto his face. "I let you in and you harass me. How is that fair?" He groaned. "And why are you naked, you pervert. Care to show off your nonexistent abs?" He teased and put the towel aside, thinking he wouldn’t wash it to be able to go back to this exact moment. Timmy's smile lighting up the room and the scent of his shampoo whispering of the taste of his skin.

“What do I have left to hide, dear friend?” Timmy giggled as he did a little dance around the room. “Come on, let’s get something to eat. Up up up!” He grabbed Armie’s wrists and tried to tug him up, but Armie was barely budging. “Okay fine, if I put some shorts and a t-shirt on will you get up? Don’t think I won’t find other things to throw at you.”

Armie let his eyes wander to his boxers. "Won't you huh? Pity." He breathed out and met Timmy's eyes, amused at the surprise he found there. He used the grip Timmy still had on his wrist to pull him closer to the bed. "And that's when you've been working out to impress that Edgerton fellow." He shook his head. He was well aware he was walking a thin line between joking, flirting and coming onto him. But Timmy had posted a few stories from the gym so it wasn't like he knew he could compare his ass to his memories.

As Armie tugged him in, Timmy’s mind flashed immediately back to the kiss they had shared that morning. How could he have been so stupid? He might have successfully played it off as a joke, but he knew it would haunt him for the rest of their time together. He shouldn’t have given himself a small taste of what he desired, because now it was insatiable. Months away from Armie, months to slowly forget the effect Armie had on him, and he had stopped being as strict with himself as he needed to be. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to ruin the most important relationship in his life. The nausea and searing pain in his chest when he thought about never truly getting what he wanted with Armie, when he was reminded how Armie never had and never would feel the same way, was bearable in comparison to thought of not having him in his life at all. Their faces were so close to each other again, closer than they had been when Armie pinned Timmy to the bed. But he had to be kidding. Calling Armie’s bluff, he slowly moved his face closer.


	2. Chapter 2

Armie disregarded the tight feeling in his chest, the way he couldn’t breathe quite right with Timmy so close, but what he did gather was even more than just his shampoo. Something so eerily _Timmy_ it made the hair stand on his neck. His friend was being daring and it was cute. The line between them was clear so they could joke around like that. He nudged his nose against Timmy’s. His free hand sneaked up and found Timmy’s ass. He gave one cheek a good, tight squeeze. “Yup, definitely working out.” He pointed out. _This is not weird_ , Armie thought. _We’re just teasing each other_. They were too close for Armie to look into his eyes clearly but he heard the gasp.

Maybe Armie wasn’t kidding. This was not a possibility Timmy had ever considered for more than a passing second over the last two years. Timmy did his best to temper the involuntary moan he felt rising in his throat when Armie grabbed him, but some of it escaped nonetheless. It was too much; too painful, too confusing, too overwhelming. Timmy couldn’t figure out what would be worse: Armie only teasing him with eskimo kisses and ass grabs or after all this time, after years of hiding a part of himself from his best friend, of constantly punishing himself and feeling like it was wrong, like _he_ was wrong, there was really something there. Tears began to well up in Timmy’s eyes. When Armie failed to move his hand after the squeeze, Timmy felt his knees falter. He hit the ground next to the bed hard. Scrambling to get up, with his voice on the verge of cracking, he eeked out, “I’m gonna get some water.”

Armie caught him before he could run off. “Damn, I’m sorry, Sweet Tea. Sit down. Are you okay?” He asked with concern and pulled him down to sit on the bed. “Breathe, T.” He told him and felt his his forehead. “You okay? Any dizziness? Double vision?” He asked. “I’m gonna get you a water. Stay put,” he ordered and went into the kitchen to fill a glass with cold water. It had been scary to see him drop to the floor like that and he refused to think of a world where it was enticing. He walked back and gave him the glass. “Any better now?” He asked still worried.

The second Armie left the room, Timmy knew he needed to get his shit together. He promised himself in that moment that he would not ruin what little time they had together by being weepy or hurt. He had never subscribed to the idea of bottling up his emotions, but if that’s what he needed to do this weekend, so be it. It had been months since he had seen Armie, let alone gotten any one-on-one time with him. He willed himself to repress his fear and pain for the next couple of days. He let a few tears streak down his face as he heard Armie turn the sink on, but wiped them away as soon as he heard it shut off. He was an actor, an oscar nominated one at that, he had to be able to act like he was okay. He took the glass from Armie when he returned and took a few small sips. “I haven't eaten in a like a day,” he said, playing it off. “I was serious when I said I wanted to go get something to eat.” He forced a chuckle. He needed to get out of the apartment. He couldn’t spend another minute alone in that bedroom with Armie or his plan of bottling everything up would crumble. It was too much, at least for right now. He had come too close to losing it, he needed to get fresh air and clear his head a bit. He wasn’t feeling hungry anymore, but he hoped some food might help anyway. 

Armie could see Timmy forcing it but he didn’t bring himself to call him out on it. He just hoped it would disappear by itself or come up naturally in a conversation. “Alright, Alright. We’ll get you some good, American food,” he promised and stood up. He offered his hand to Timmy and pulled him up. “Go slow and drink some more water, yeah?” Armie said, concerned. After he’d convinced himself Timmy was steady on his feet, he walked over to his wardrobe. “I’d better pull some clothes on that don’t smell like weed.” He pointed out and grinned at Timmy before effectively and quickly pulling his shirt and pants off. He’d never had any qualms about changing in front of him and he wasn’t going to start now when Timmy was only wearing his boxers and Armie had just had his hand on his ass. He picked the shirt out they’d bought together in Austin and a pair of jeans.

Timmy did his best to look anywhere but at Armie as he stripped. He had done the same thing, tried to show Armie his body in the most seemingly innocent way possible, but coming from the other way around, it felt almost conniving. As angry as Timmy was that Armie kept pushing the faux flirting, it took all of his willpower not to scan his nearly-naked body. As Armie buttoned his shirt, Timmy walked out to the living room to take a few deep breaths to regain his composure and opened his suitcase again. Of course he had brought the matching shirt they bought together in Austin, but he didn’t want Armie to think he cared as much as he actually did. He instead opted for a striped t-shirt and pair of shorts. He missed feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin, even through all the New York humidity. British summers, as it turned out, weren’t all that warm. Sitting on the floor to put on some socks, he yelled across the apartment, “Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know! Some place with good burgers. You live here you should know where to go.” Armie answered and walked into the room fully dressed. He pouted when he saw Timmy was wearing a t-shirt. “Come on, man. Where’s your shirt?” He complained and walked over to rummage through Timmy’s clothes. The first thing that fell into his hands, though, was the Brentwood Country Mart cap which they’d bought while shopping together for the fun of it and the slightly pink one which he’d worn when Armie had visited him in New York and they’d spent the day looking at Timmy’s places in this city. He still had the selfie he took with it as his profile pic and Armie’s heart warmed every time he saw it. He knew there existed other pictures taken in the same place, at the same time. He’d fallen asleep on Timmy’s bed then and Timmy had been bored. He held both of them up and then tossed him the pink one. “Where’s your shirt man? I’m not going around looking like _this_ with you by my side in regular clothes.” He explained. Timmy just looked unfair. Everyone was fawning over him and the bastard didn’t even have to do anything for it. He just had good taste and good genes.

“Okay fine, if you really _need_ to be all matchy-matchy with me today, I’ll wear the yeti shirt.” Timmy did his best to sound like the didn’t care, like it was a genuine annoyance. Was this just an excuse for him to take his shirt off again? He knew his chest and stomach were no real sight to behold, but Armie _had_ just grabbed his ass a few minutes before…  
He did his best not to read into the situation or Armie’s motives, though his best was starting to feel not good enough. He put the baseball cap over his still damp curls. “There’s a great hole-in-the-wall place about a mile from here. It seems like a nice day out… as long as you don’t mind potentially being seen with me.” He pulled his t-shirt off, balled it up, and threw it back in his open suitcase. He stood and waited for Armie’s response before grabbing the new shirt. 

Timmy was acting pissy and it pissed Armie off in turn. He hadn’t been like this in Crema and every piece of proof that they’d changed added a nail to the coffin. “You suggesting you’re my dirty little side piece? I’ve got nothing to hide, man. White west.” He said and gestured down at himself. “As long as the food is good I don’t care,” he made clear. He looked back at Timmy, who was still standing around half naked. He’d put on some muscles for his role, Armie noticed and sighed before turning away, pretending to be looking for his phone. He hated himself for noticing in the first place. He shouldn’t, as a good friend, and it was highly irritating. He waited until he could hear the shuffling of fabric and considered it enough time to put on a shirt. “Annoying to match with a grave of fashion like me, huh?” He couldn’t hold back the bitterness in his voice. “Too bad you’re friends with me.” He rolled his eyes mostly at himself. He had a bad brain-to-mouth filter and Timmy knew this, had known this at least. He silently plead for him to understand that a cornered animal would always bite.

“Hey!” Timmy said, pushing Armie’s shoulder, his eyes wide and kind. “Only _I'm_ allowed to be mean to you.” He suddenly regretted letting his hurt get the best him and squeezing in a snide comment as defense. No matter how frustrated or hurt or broken Timmy felt, he couldn’t stand listening to Armie beat himself up; there were enough people out there doing it already, even people in Armie’s own family. “I know you get hangry, so I’m gonna let that one slide. But watch it, or else you’ll have to listen to me say something great about you with each passing insult. And we all know how uncomfortable that makes you.” Timmy stuck his tongue out at Armie, hoping that if he acted like he was in a better mood for long enough, it would become reality. He skipped over to the door. “Ready?”

A grin forced its way on his face. Timmy was right there. They both knew it didn’t erase any of his insecurities but it would make him associate some things with the nice stuff Timmy had said to him in response. He remembered playing that game in Italy and the way his face had been hot from blushing so hard. _How many of these compliments do you have? There’s no way there are so many good things to be said about me._ A beat. _You’re the only one who I can talk to for hours about the principles of the American dream. Everyone else would’ve rolled their eyes ten minutes into the conversation._ Timmy had reminded him and Armie had blushed more and gave a pained sound. _Fine, I give up_. The grin on Timmy’s face had been worth it. He shook the memories off and slipped his phone into his pocket. “Ready,” He answered and followed him out the door, dutifully locking it before bounding down the stairs after him. “Move slower, kid! This heat is heavy on the lungs of a senior!” He warned him. They hadn’t even left the house yet and he was already dripping with sweat. Maybe he shouldn’t have let nostalgia get the better of him and instead pull on a tank top and some short shorts. Or some sort of shorts. _Dammit_.

Timmy was so happy to be back on the Manhattan streets in summer that he sang to himself as they walked. Armie’s legs were much longer than his, so, as usual, Timmy had to pick up his pace when they walked side by side. “Tell me about the show, dude! I can’t believe I made it this far without asking. I’m going to blame it on the jet lag instead of me being a shitty friend.” He felt totally at ease for the first time since landing in New York that morning. He tried to take stock of the moment, take mental snapshots of the two of them bounding down the street together, laughing, occasionally knocking elbows. He wanted to be able to go back to these moments at night as he tried to fall asleep for the next few months, wishing desperately to hear Armie’s snore beside him. 

Armie shrugged and drew his shoulders up. “It’s fucking hard, man. I mean, I can’t believe how people want to be actors when they start out in theatre. I mean, I was in a play as a kid back when I didn’t think too hard about a lot of stuff. But now it’s like repeating the same moves every evening to have another thousand people judge you and you know if you forget your line you can’t just start over. You know everyone would be laughing at you. It’s horrifying, actually. But I refuse to be controlled by that feeling.” He explained. He threw a look at his phone and realised he only had a few hours left until another show made his stomach twist. He hated this game. Every fucking day the anxiety was back. What if today was the day they didn’t sit through it and left instead? What if he didn’t manage to win their favour this time? Suddenly the prospect of eating made him sick.

“Oh Armie, the whole world knows how you like to be the one in control.” Timmy smirked. “But seriously, you can get me into the show tonight, right? Of course I came to visit you, but I have to see Stage Armie. I want to experience your flair for the dramatic with the rest of the audience and see your name lit up on the marquee.” Timmy spread his arms out wide in excitement, nearly hitting someone walking past them on the sidewalk. He wanted to be able to sit in the darkness of the house, to feel along with Armie. That was the magic of live theater, why he loved it so much. Movies, of course, were a passion of his, but there was something different about a breathing human being _feeling_ right in front of you, hearing their voice echo off the walls around you, feeling the air charged with pain or sorrow or excitement or confusion. He wanted to be able to watch and feel along with Armie and not have to hide any of it. He wanted to be able to cry and laugh in the anonymity that came along with being a part of the audience on that specific night, seeing that specific performance. 

Armie shook his head. Every time he got to spend time with Timmy he realised just how bright he was. He was unabashed in his expression of joy and excitement. “Of course I can get you in, kid.” He reached out and ruffled his hair. It always felt special to be around someone so true to himself. It had fascinated him from the start because he rarely got this in his normal day to day life. “Just don’t have such high expectations.” He told him and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He valued Timmy’s judgement highly. He was such a well-educated and emotionally mature young man; one in a million. It really _mattered_ whether he liked the play and that made him all the more anxious about it.

“You would have to try really hard to disappoint me.” Timmy said, finally opening the door to the restaurant. They were hit with a blast of AC, made even colder when it came into contact with the sweat they’d accumulated during their walk. “But please don’t try,” he said and got up on his tiptoes to ruffle Armie’s hair back jokingly. Timmy ordered himself an enormous burrito and horchata and sat at a back booth while Armie perused the menu. It felt good to just be another anonymous body in a huge city again. He felt a lot of pressure on set in London, especially coming off an oscar nomination. Sometimes it was nice to just exist without any expectations. As much as they perfectly knew how to push each other’s buttons, Timmy knew that, at least at a friendship level, Armie loved him, successful, charming, handsome young actor or not. 

Armie raised an eyebrow at Timmy’s order. “What kind of healthy shit is that? Next thing I know and you’ll start eating quinoa on me.” He joked. There was an anecdote in that somewhere. Armie had a big burger with fries and mayo. “What? I’m _hungry._ ” In fact, there was rarely a point in life when Armie wasn’t hungry. And Timmy managed to capture his attention well enough that he didn’t think about tonight’s show too much. “So your turn. How’s England working out for you?” He asked once they’d ordered.

“It’s decent,” Timmy said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s interesting and artistically fulfilling and I’m really enjoying working again even though it’s exhausting. The source material is dense and interesting and I feel like I’m learning a lot.” Timmy fidgeted with a straw he had pulled from the dispenser on the table. “I keep trying to make these impossible comparisons, though. Like, I know that nothing will be like Crema. That as much as I like my director, he’ll never know my soul on a deeper level like Luca does. Shit, that sounds stupid.” Timmy shook his head, making fun of himself. “I’m glad I’m doing it, but it doesn’t feel like a transformative experience. I like my co-stars, a lot, actually but they just…” Timmy paused and furrowed his eyebrows, trying to figure out the most innocuous way to word this next thought. “It’s missing the Armie factor. Not enough luck of the universe.” Timmy smiled, deciding to push it just a little further. “I guess the universe gives that once only.”

Timmy’s words struck a string in Armie’s soul and it rang through his entire body. “Not getting mushy on me, are you?” Armie asked and nudged Timmy’s shoulder with his own. “Because then I’d have to object and say that neither of us are written for one instrument only.” A line from the book that had stayed with him. Perhaps that was true but without altering it, they would both only sound really good on one. “I get what you mean. Just don’t let it drag you down.” Armie had found himself looking for that feeling he’d found in Crema, though. Not only in projects but also in life. “I’m here now and Luca is just a WhatsApp message away. Actually it’d be nice to let him know that we are meeting up, don’t you think?” He asked and pulled his phone out. Timmy’s words replayed in his head though and he paused. “Armie factor?? What is that even supposed to mean? Don’t they get you good weed over there or what?” He acted more offended than he actually was.

“Oh my god, Armie, of course it’s not the fucking weed. I can’t get real with you without getting shit for it, huh? Just accept that fact that you’re special to me.” Timmy’s eyes lit up as he saw their food appear on the counter. He hopped up to grab it and put Armie’s down on their table before setting down his own. “Bon appetit,” he said with a flourish of his hand and a dramatic, but not inaccurate, French accent. “I thought you liked my emotional openness, anyway” Timmy said, his mouth full of burrito. He gave Armie’s shin a kick under the table and grabbed Armie's phone from where he had placed it on the table, taking a terrible selfie of the two of them with their mouths full, intending to send it to Luca. 

Armie swallowed and licked his fingers clean from the mayo. “I do. You know it’s unique. I’ve never quite seen anything like it before.” He dipped another fry before stuffing it into his mouth. He watched Timmy for a moment who frowned, chewed, then made a disgusted face. He continued to pull slices of tomato out of his burrito then which had apparently been hidden. Armie chuckled and shook his head. “Never change, T.” He said affectionately and took a bite off his burger.

“No plans on changing at the moment. Hey, what’s your call time tonight?” Timmy was wary about spending a few hours apart that afternoon. The last thing he needed was to be alone and stuck with his thoughts. Even in his good mood, his mind was flashing back to the kiss they had shared, sleeping next to each other, how breathless he was as they wrestled. Even thinking about the time they had already spent together this weekend made him shift in his seat. 

“I can take you backstage and then blackmail them into letting _oscar nominee_ Timothée Chalamet sit first row.” He teased. Timmy was not the boy he’d met in Crema more than two years ago but somehow he totally was. “Just don’t mind me becoming a mess once we enter the building.” Armie warned him. “I take getting worked up before the performances *very* seriously. Just so you know.” He said it like in jest but absolutely meant it. He didn’t know how he’d react with someone else around and no space to panic by himself.

“I’m only coming if you let me do your stage makeup” Timmy said, entirely serious. He had no idea what to expect from it all. It was an old axiom for actors, “Never read the reviews.” Timmy felt so connected to Armie, almost like Armie was an extension of him, that he refused to read any of his reviews either. They had both about finished their meals, Timmy feeling stuffed and content. “Tell me about your pre-show routine. Do you have a steamer? Do you have a fight call? Do you make weird faces in the dressing room mirror?”He was teasing, but he missed getting to watch Armie go through the mundane elements of the everyday. Even watching him put on a sweatshirt or tie his shoes could make love and affection tingle in Timmy's chest. Learning these little details about Armie's life in New York this summer would help him picture it all when he got back to London. When Armie called him from the dressing room before a show, Timmy would know exactly what the chair he was sitting in would look like. When he could hear Armie putting dishes in the sink, he could remember the pattern on the plates in his apartment. It would be comforting. It would be a good placeholder for when he could see him again.

Armie paused, swallowed. “Look, I trust you a lot, but my make-up... fine you’re right. Hell, do my make-up if you want.” He laughed imaging the face of a shocked director when she saw him with all the wrong make-up on his face. “Well I get my make-up done, smoke a cigarette, check my phone, but it all ends up with screaming and crying eventually.” He joked. He wished he was truly joking though because it was actually what he was experiencing inside. The unbearable amount of dread that always put him on the verge of saying fuck it and running. But having that urge only made him more determined to get through this in one piece. It worked but it was hardly healthy. He knew Timmy was right but sometimes after a bad night he wanted to see how disastrous the ratings and feedbacks really were. It just heightened his bill at the local liquor store.

“Ah, I see you’re taking some of my advice. Keeping emotion at the surface.” Timmy could sense that Armie was hiding something, that there was something he wasn’t saying. He thought back to earlier that day, though, before they had left for lunch, when they were on the verge of a fight. As much as he wanted to know what was behind Armie’s smokescreen, now didn’t feel like the right time to push it. Maybe Armie would open up more in a couple days when they both sensed the weight of Timmy’s departure. Timmy grabbed their plates and brought them back up to the counter where he had gotten them. “You’re the New Yorker now, Hammer. Where to next?”

Armie shrugged. “I dunno. It’s not like I planned anything except being lonely and high today.” He looked around as they stood on the street thinking of all the places in New York that he knew and realized how many of them were connected to Timmy in one way or another. “What about your granny? We visited her last time I was here and I haven’t seen her since. I’m sure she’d appreciate seeing you, too.” He suggested. She was a lovely woman with quite some sass who had made Timmy blush most of the time. Armie had thoroughly enjoyed it.

“I mean I’m sure she’d love it, but are you sure that’s what you to do for our big weekend together?” Timmy wanted to see his grandmother, that wasn’t the issue. His family had welcomed Armie with open and loving arms as soon as they saw the connection he and Timmy had. He could trust his parents to be tight-lipped and appropriate, but when Armie was around Pauline or his grandmother… Suffice it to say that the two of them showed much less restraint. And Timmy had plenty to be be embarrassed about. Timmy knew that under his tough, “I don’t give up a fuck” exterior, Armie had an immense softness, but he normally didn’t show it so readily. It normally only seeped out when they were alone and had been talking for hours, not when they were in public about to leave a restaurant. 

Armie shrugged and turned to him while walking. “Dude, you’re the New Yorker! I only know places because you know places. So basically all I would say is something you have more history with than I do. I mean what did you think we would do on our _big weekend together?_ ” He asked and punched Timmy’s arm lightly. Lightly in their case being enough to make him lose balance for a moment. Anything that would take his mind of tonight’s show would be welcomed. Armie loved when Timmy showed him around. They’d spend a lot of time in LA because it was nice for Armie to also be around the kids (and they _adored_ Timmy) but here he could watch Timmy talk passionately about a certain street artist or rapper or coffee shop for hours with a good excuse. Sometimes he dreamt of showing him the Cayman’s, the place he went to school there and how to climb a coconut palm real fast. But that was nothing but a dream.

“I mean, we never go uptown.” Whenever they spent time together in the city, they normally got too distracted with each other to make real destinations. They walked around the neighborhood southern Hell’s Kitchen and The Village, the two places Timmy had lived, beside Columbia for a year. Timmy had given him significant portions of the Chalamet Tour so that Armie could see places he frequented the most, but other than that, they had mostly spent time at promo events or just hanging out at a hotel or apartment. “What about the Met? Or the park? We could look at those amazing apartments that line the park on either side and pick which one you’ll buy when you finally cave and move here permanently and send Hops and Ford to LaGuardia. That is, unless you’re too afraid to get sweaty. Or really have your heart set on visiting my bubbe.” 

Did he have his heart set on visiting Timmy’s bubble? Yes, everyday. It was just so much more comfortable when he walked around with Timmy. Lighter and yet more meaningful in a way. “Any of these sound good.” He admits and considers their options. “We would get recognised looking for apartments.” He wished they could just be regular people and could fool around with people’s perception of them a little but with their job that was kind of hard. “You think it might be worth the fun? They’ll probably start asking why I’m suddenly looking at apartments with you.” He warned him. It was one of those things that Timmy still had to get used to. “Do you think the scolding by our PR people might be worth the fun?”

“Oh we can’t get in _that_ much trouble. You’re a cosmopolitan man, just looking to branch out, maybe invest in some real estate” Timmy giggled at his own faux serious-adult-businessman voice. The idea of playing this silly game with Armie was enthralling. It was so rare that they got to fool around and be ridiculous with no commitments and few consequences. Maybe they would get recognized, but so what? It’s not like there would be paparazzi inside the buildings. Timmy had grown up with plenty of means: he knew he would be able to go to college if he wanted, he got to visit family in France for the summer, he could go to concerts and plays around the city. But he had always imagined that when he made it big, that when money was truly no object, he would live in one of the gorgeous old buildings on Central Park East. The apartments with crown molding and perfect fireplaces and views out to the East river and Brooklyn. Looking at these apartments with Armie, maybe he could play pretend for a few hours. 

It was not the silliest thing Armie Hammer had ever done but it was surprising that it was Timmy’s idea. “Alright, yeah, maybe I am. And you? Who are you, tagging along to my business meetings?” He asked and slung an arms around his shoulders. “My assistant? A nephew who wants to take over my business? Or-“ he paused wondering if that wasn’t the most plausible case, “my New York trophy boyfriend?” He teased. He let himself imagine it for a moment. Jetting around the globe to make one business deal after the other and each city a boy or girl that he tied up the evening to relive the steam build up during the day. Armie wouldn’t trade acting for anything but he supposed there were also worse ways to live.

Timmy knew it was a joke, but his heart nearly stopped beating when he heard Armie say it out loud. His eyes widened and he stopped walking, right in the middle of the sidewalk. As much as he desperately wanted it, dreamed about it, it wasn’t fair for Armie to tease and dangle it right in front of him without really meaning it. “Don’t say that so loudly,” Timmy said coldly. “Might give someone the wrong idea.” Armie had to know, he wasn’t so oblivious as to never be able to see it. Why would he say that? Why would he hurt Timmy on purpose? All the warmth and joy Timmy had felt fell away instantly. Despite his promise to himself to stay civil and avoid argument, he couldn’t control the pain ripping through his chest and stomach. 

Armie stopped when he noticed Timmy was no longer beside him and turned to face him. He seemed hurt. That was a thing about Timothée. He could never hide what was going on inside of him. Armie frowned. “Is it so hard to consider it? Am I that revolting to you?” He asked trying to get the light mood back. It was just a game. “Hell, if it fits you better you can imagine I take it up the ass.” He hissed. Now Armie sounded sounding hurt and he hadn’t wanted that. But Timmy ccouldn’t just say that. Not when they spend a summer practically in each other’s embrace. It was- Armie had thought it meant something. 15 months of promoting the movie had brought them closer than ever. If he was giving people ideas than none they hadn’t thought before he was sure. God, they’d- they’d been all over each other and suddenly a joke was too much?!

“You know that’s not the fucking problem.” Timmy said, sharp and cold. How had he not seen this coming? Maybe he shouldn’t have come at all; of course they wouldn’t be able to have a nice weekend without any fights or without hurting each other. He started walking again, quickly, and passed Armie without stopping. He needed time, he needed to be alone so that he could get his shit together enough to be able to spend the rest of the weekend with Armie. “I’m going to my apartment for a while” he said loudly without looking back at Armie over his shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The argument between Timmy and Armie comes to a peak and mistakes are being made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that we have been gone for so long. Now we are back writing again and starting to post the ton of material that we had already gathered. I hope you are as excited about this story continuing as we are!

“Hey!” Armie called after him. What the hell was wrong with that boy? He finally set into motion then and caught up with Timmy. “What is the fucking problem, then?” He asked and didn’t move from his side even when Timmy tried to ignore him. “Look, I don’t know what you thought would happen when you jumped on a plane to spend 48 hours just with me. But don’t fucking expect me to read your mind! Because- you know what I think? I think you don’t know yourself what you want here. And I think you should come clean with yourself on that before you yell at people who simply wanted to make a joke to see that beautiful smile of yours!” He accused him.

Timmy kept walking briskly. “You can’t be that stupid, Armie,” he said, still not looking at him. “I know exactly what I want and you know it. You know what I want and yet you _still_ make comments like that. What is it? Are you trying to balloon your already throbbing ego? Trying to fill the hole your empty marriage leaves in your life by making me hurt too?” They had never talked about his marriage like this, though Timmy had been thinking about it this way for over a year and a half. He knew it was a reckless comment, one that was likely to make Armie mad enough for his face to redden and his forehead veins to start popping, but he was too upset to care. “Fuck you.” Timmy had never said that to Armie before, not even in their most heated arguments. 

Armie was startled into silence for a long moment. Timmy had never been this rude to him. His hand reached out and pushed Timmy into an alley, away from the crowded pavement before he could even think about it. His hands fisted in Timmy’s jacket and without regard, he threw him into a wall. “How fucking dare you?! How dare you assume that I know what’s going on in that stupid brain of yours?! Here, let’s ask the next guy that walks by. At this point, he has a better chance of knowing what’s going on with you than I do. Because let me tell you something: I have not a fucking clue! You just come and expect shit that I don’t know about and then go yelling at me, insulting my marriage, and excuse me but that - it’s none of your fucking business. Do you hear me? I asked if you could hear me?!” He had crossed the distance between them and was shaking Timothée now, not caring whether his head made contact with the concrete behind him or not. 

Timmy’s comment had gotten the rise out of Armie he had been looking for, but once it came, he couldn’t handle it. His mind flashed back to middle school, and it was like reality vanished around him. The alley and surrounding dumpsters faded away, and he was in the bathroom next to his 7th grade English classroom. Armie wasn’t Armie anymore, he was Parker McCall, one of Timmy’s pubescent tormentors. Timmy was being punched in the chest over and over after being shoved into the brick wall, the air knocked out of his lungs. He was kneed so hard in the stomach that he fell to his knees. His nose bled on the tile floor as he tried to stay silent, to not give Parker the satisfaction of hearing him whimper or cry. “Fucking fairy,” he had said, leaving Timmy on the ground as he finally left the bathroom to laugh with his friends. Timmy was paralyzed with fear. As the back of his head smacked the concrete wall behind him, he was jolted back to the reality of Armie and the alley. His breathing was sharp, shallow, and loud; he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs and his heart beat rapidly and painfully in his chest. _Fuck. Fuck. I_ cannot _start having a panic attack right now._ But knowing it was coming did nothing to stop it. 

When Timmy didn’t answer, the blinding rage started to subside and he became aware of the sheer panic in Timmy’s eyes and the way his breathing came too fast and too shallow to get enough air into his lungs.  
“Fuck, Timmy. Shit, I’m sorry.” He pulled back as if he’d burned himself, staring at his hands in shock. He could only watch with growing horror as Timmy’s body collapsed on the ground in front of him.  
_Fuck up. Useless pile of shit._ He scolded himself. _That is exactly why you don’t deserve good things in life. Your mother was right. You’re a disappointment._  
The realisation that he just scared away the best thing he might ever have had in his life sank in. The tears came suddenly and unbidden. _Now he’s crying. Dru, don’t you hit him enough? He ain’t becoming a real man like that._ He flinched as if the hand had struck him just now again.  
“Timmy, I’m so sorry.” He whispered crouching down next to him. “You have to breathe. I know I’m the last person you want to see but you need to breathe.” Armie was fighting to keep his own breathing stable, blinking through a veil of tears. He knew what a panic attack looked like, had experienced it often enough himself. He took Timmy’s hands and pressed them to his chest. _You need to breathe for him._ He told himself and tried to be a good role model. “In. And out. Come on, Timmy. I know you can do it.”

His breaths were still sharp and painful, but he tried to get a few words out. “I’m… I… so-... sorry” His tailbone hurt from collapsing into a heap on the ground. He felt the steady beat of Armie’s heart through this shirt, through his chest, past his ribcage; he tried to time his breathing with each thump. It felt like some screw inside him had come loose, the rest of his body careening out of control, crashing and thudding against itself. His mind was racing and his eyes were closed in an attempt to keep the world from spinning. “Home...how can we get...back.” He couldn’t be having a panic attack in public, especially not now that people could recognize him or take pictures. And, despite the maelstrom in his head, Timmy knew that once he calmed down, he would have to face Armie and the argument they’d been having, why each of them said what they had said. That couldn’t happen here; they needed to get back to the apartment. Timmy fisted his hands into Armie’s shirt, trying to use it as a steady base to force his body to stand despite his uneven breath and shaky legs. 

Armie drew his eyebrows up. It was too soon for Timmy to stand up. He needed to calm down and indeed he could barely catch him before he crumbled again. “It’s okay. I’ll bring us back.” He promised. One job. He had one job. It should be possible.  
He gathered him into his arms and made sure his face was hidden before walking back to the street and stopping the first taxi by simply walking out in front of it. He gestured for the passenger to get out who shouted but went. He told the driver Timmy’s address and offered him a hundred dollars if he brought them there.  
That made him shut up and drive. “It’s okay now,” Armie assured him, holding him close. He knew he’d have to leave as soon as he made sure that Timmy was okay. _You destroy everything good._ The tears came back and he looked down to hide them should the driver look into the rear view mirror. He pressed Timmy’s head close to his chest, let him feel the regular lifting of his own chest. “Breathe, Timmy. Breathe.” He pleaded quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhm yeah, angst is happening. Use the comments to shout at us.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You think it couldn't get worse? *evil laugh*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised here's the new update on Sunday. Can't wait to hear your reactions to this one.

As infuriated as he had been with Armie ten minutes ago, his sturdy embrace was the most comforting thing he could think of. Though he was hazy on the details of how they got there, he could tell that they were in a car, and the light rocking gave him something to focus on. “I’m sorry,” Timmy said, finally just calm enough to cry. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating over and over again. He knew it was just a flashback, but he couldn’t shake the fear of being that 12 year-old again, alone and bleeding on the floor. He cried into Armie’s shirt, clinging to him desperately because he wasn’t alone this time. Timmy still felt weak, but his grip on Armie was iron. Armie cooed and shhh-ed him, slowly running a calming hand through his hair. As his heart rate finally started to come down, all that was left was sadness, a deep, penetrating, aching sadness. Timmy didn’t want to be afraid anymore. He didn’t want to live in fear of what he felt or of what Armie might say or think if he told him. It couldn’t possibly get any worse than this, he couldn’t be any more of a crying, anxious, destroyed mess. “I love you,” he said, clear and soft into Armie’s chest. 

Armie shook his head. Timmy had felt like that for him once, had loved him like a brother but that was over now. It was over the second he’d thrown him against a wall and triggered a panic attack. He’d discovered blood while combing through his hair but hadn’t said anything about it yet. “No, no. You hate me. Rightfully. I’m a shit friend, an even a shittier brother. I should’ve told you that I destroy everything good around me. I’m so sorry. Do you hear me? I’m sorry. And you don’t love me. Not anymore and you never should have.” He whispered, carefully cradling his head.

“You’re such an idiot,” Timmy said, wrapping his arms around Armie’s back and squeezing as best he could. Armie had gotten it wrong, the whole thing. In time, Timmy would explain it to him, but he was still coming down, sorting himself out. His crying hadn’t entirely subsided and his chest was still full of sharp pain. _I guess it’s a good thing we have all weekend,_ he said to himself. Even though Armie had entirely misunderstood, it had felt good to get some of it off his chest. A small weight had lifted. Perhaps when they had the real version of this conversation he could feel freer. “Are we almost home?” he asked, nuzzling further into Armie, giving in to what he truly wanted for once. 

Timmy was clingy, more than usual even and Armie didn’t understand why. He should be revolted by him but perhaps he was just under the impression everything was fine because Armie had taken care of him. In time he would come to his senses again. “Yes, I hope.” He answered and pulled his hand back a little, seeing that his fingers were stained red. “And you’re the idiot for still trusting me,” he mumbled but also didn’t do anything to pry him away. Timmy’s nose and his breath ghosting over his neck made him feel warm inside. He knew he should stop him but it was the last he would have of him. And it felt so good. The taxi stopped and Armie fiddled all the cash he had out and gave it to the driver without thinking. He carried Timmy inside then and was glad when an elevator was waiting for them. When the doors closed and they went upwards he remembered that he’d need a key for them to get in. “Do you have your key with you?” He asked, panicked. If not they’d need to go back to Armie’s apartment and that was probably not a wise idea in Timmy’s condition.

“No, but the old woman who lives two units to the left has my spare. She’s nice and I go get groceries with her sometimes.” Timmy didn’t want Armie to let him go, to set him down, but he knew the time had to come eventually. He inhaled the scent of Armie at the crook of his neck which was amplified by the heat and sweat. “I can go knock on her door, she’s probably at home watching jeopardy this time in the afternoon.” He wasn’t confident in his ability to stand or talk to anyone beside Armie, but he also didn’t want Armie to look at him like a helpless, wounded bird. 

Armie nodded. That sounded good. Neighbours would bring reality into this. Someone who wasn’t losing their mind. Armie walked down the hallway. “This one?” Timmy nodded. “Alright. You need to knock,” he said. After all, his hands were still full of Timmy. And he wouldn’t risk letting him stand or walk right now. He’d make sure to lie him down, take care of his wound and hydrate him until his mind had caught up to the fact of what Armie had done to get them here.

Timmy rapped his knuckles on the door. The hallway was quiet enough that he and Armie could hear shuffling feet approach the door. A few seconds later, a short woman with grey hair and a floral dress opened the door. “Vimini, hi,” Timmy said, his smile meek but genuine. It was only at this moment that he realized how bizarre this must be for her. Not only was she expecting Timmy to be in London, but Timmy was quite literally in the arms of a giant. “Timmy, my love, so good to see you,” Vimini reached out to pat Timmy’s leg in Armie’s arms. Improv was never Timmy’s strongest unit in drama, but he could get the job done. “I’m home visiting for the weekend. It’s so nice out we so went to play soccer but I twisted my ankle pretty badly. We were in such a rush to make it to the field that I left my key inside. Can I...do you still have my spare?” Vimini smiled and nodded. “Yes, yes, let me get it from my desk.” As Vimini disappeared back into the apartment, Timmy looked up at Armie. “You can let me down, if you want.” Armie gave a sharp but small shake of his head. Vimini returned, key in hand. She motioned for Timmy to come closer, and Armie obliged, angling Timmy in his arms. Vimini leaned into Timmy’s ear. “Is this him? Your Armie?” Timmy nodded. Vimini made kind eye contact with Armie as she placed the key in Timmy’s hand. She affectionately gave Armie’s bicep a soft, knowing rub. “Go ice that ankle” she said to the two of them, giving Timmy a subtle wink. 

Armie couldn’t help but overhear what she said to Timmy with them so close together. He put off commenting on it, though. Your Armie is surely only a figure of speech. He’d tease Timmy about it under different circumstances. Back in front of Timmy’s apartment, he squatted a little so Timmy could unlock his door. “Pull the key out,” Armie instructed once the door was open and when Timmy had it in his hands again he walked in and kicked the door shut. “Alright. I’m gonna lay you down and you’ll not try to get up, okay?” He made clear while he made his way over to the couch carefully putting him down. He dragged the blanket over him before hurrying over to the kitchen area. After opening a few closets quickly, he found a bowl and filled it with warm water. “First aid?” He asked and gestured to the door that led to the bathroom. Timmy nodded and he rummaged through the closet there until he found what he’d been looking for. “Can you tilt your head forward? Slowly. Yes, thank you.” He inspected what he saw and concluded it was okay. It had mostly stopped bleeding already. “I’m gonna clean it.” He informed Timmy. He didn’t allow him to kick him out just yet. His health was the first priority.

“What is it? How bad?” Timmy asked, his chin touching his chest so that Armie could get a good view. He felt guilty. He had said something hurtful, really hurtful, and yet here Armie still was, paying for a cab, carrying him up to the apartment, and now cleaning his wound. Timmy reached his hand back to try to feel the back of his head. There was a dull throb emanating from a few inches above the back of his neck, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He didn’t need Armie to wait on him, as much as he loved how careful and tender he was being. He couldn’t inflict more pain on Armie, and it wasn’t fair that Armie was forced to instantaneously forgive him because he had a panic attack. 

Armie swatted his hand away. “No touching. You’re only going to make it worse.” He was reminded of his children suddenly when they kept picking at band-aids. But this was different. Timmy had been bleeding because of his lack of self-control. “It stopped bleeding but it’s probably gonna start again while I clean it.” He explained. He fought hard to keep feelings of guilt and regret at bay. They didn’t have a place in taking care of Timmy. “You must’ve scraped the skin when hitting the concrete.” He explained and bit his lip, grounding himself in the pain.

Timmy had finally calmed down enough to the point of normal, rhythmic breathing. If Armie was truly so intent on taking care of his wound, now would be the time to bring it back up. Armie wouldn’t escape to avoid a tough conversation if he was devoted to cleaning the blood out of Timmy’s hair. “Listen, Arm, I shouldn’t have said that. It was totally uncalled for and not my place. You were right. I knew it would make you mad and I was hurt so I hurt you too. I fucked up. Ah!” Timmy yelped at a sudden sting from the back of his head. 

Timmy’s words surprised him and then filled him with anger. “Sorry, I slipped.” He mumbled before continuing. “You know what was uncalled for? Throwing my best friend into a fucking wall when I could see that you were hurt!” Armie said with barely-contained anger. “Don’t you dare apologise,” he made clear and tried to calm his shaking hands by taking deep breaths. Was Timmy’s self-esteem really so low that he’d just forgive him for it? “I knew you were just trying to provoke me because you were hurt and yet I still got worked up over it.”

“Just because you know why I did it doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.” Timmy couldn’t figure out why Armie was getting so angry again. “I’m...I know I’m not the only one with trauma, Armie. Maybe we deal with it in different ways, or react without thinking because it’s still a shadow looming over us, but that doesn’t make either more important or deeper. You get mad, I freeze. Yeah, I wish you didn’t throw me against a wall in an alley, but more than that, I wish whatever hurt you so badly that that’s your reflexive response never happened.” Timmy tried to turn around. He wanted to see Armie, wanted to be seen so Armie knew he meant what he was saying. “Yeah, you probably need to work on your anger. That’s not really news to anyone. But I can see and feel that you’re sorry.” 

Armie stopped in the middle of his actions and forced himself to listen to him. _Your teacher told me you have the attention span of a goldfish._ He couldn’t believe the words Timmy was saying though. Words he’d once said suddenly come into his mind. _There’s an 80 year-old man in there._ He’d meant it as a compliment. Still did. “Fuck, Timmy. How come you’re so fucking wise and mature after all this?” He asked, but it was soft and fond. He couldn’t help but wrap his arms around Timmy then, hugging him to his chest. “You’re right. I’m goddamn fucking sorry,” He said and blinked the tears away.

“I forgive you. But hey, like I said, only _I_ am allowed to be mean to you” He leaned further into the hug, putting his weight on Armie’s chest. “And I’m sorry I got so mad. I knew you were joking, but that wa-… I think I need to tell you something.”

Armie nodded. “Okay.” At the moment he was only glad that Timmy had forgiven him. That perhaps they could try to find a way to make it work despite their issues. He wanted to believe it, desperately. The more he knew about how to prevent this next time, the better.

He had already set the wheels in motion; he couldn’t stop now. Timmy felt panic rising again in his chest, but he needed to get it out, once and for all. He needed Armie to know. He needed to hear himself say it out loud. He was facing Armie but couldn’t look at him, staring down at his own hands, his long fingers clasping and unclasping each other. “I love you. Like a best friend, of course, because you are. But also… beyond that. God, I’ve rehearsed this is in my head so many times over the last two years but I can’t… there’s no delicate or discreet way to say it anymore. I love you and I’m sorry if that ruins our friendship or if you feel like I lied to or betrayed you, but I do.” Timmy hid his face in his hands, unable to look at Armie and gauge his reaction. He felt like he was going to vomit; he was glad it was finally out of him, but these seconds between uttering the words and getting the response were what had kept him from saying it all so many times before. He couldn’t let Armie see it all on his face, he already felt so exposed; saying it out loud was enough and he needed to keep some of it for himself.

Armie was too shocked to say anything for a moment. Now that he knew he could see it, though. In a thousand different touches and glances between them. And he’d never ever realised the admiration and love Timmy had expressed for him had descended to another level. “Okay.” He brought out finally. _Come on, Armie. Don’t fuck this up. You just got him back._ “I’m- Uhm.” He stuttered. What was he supposed to say? He didn’t feel the same for Timmy, he loved him but only like a brother. That was no comfort for him. But suddenly- the comment about being his boyfriend... of course. “Damn, so that’s why you flipped out. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” He looked at him and saw the shame in his eyes. God, he loved him. How had he tricked Timmy into _loving_ him? Such a kind, intelligent human being? “I feel honoured, Timmy, truly. And I’m sorry but you know I’m married. I don’t feel the same. If you need space, anything... I’ll try to help you. I’ll try to be a better friend.” He promised.

There it was. Timmy had known the chance that Armie felt the same was slim, but a tiny glimmer of hope remained in the not knowing for sure. Without explicit confirmation otherwise, Timmy could focus on the thought that maybe, _just maybe,_ there could be something there. But, regardless of how small that glimmer of hope was, having it axed to pieces was more painful than he could have possibly imagined. His head was swimming, his stomach sank. The nauseous feeling wasn’t dissipating. Still unsteady on his feet, he quickly pushed himself off the couch and sprinted into the bathroom. He wretched into the toilet and sobbed, beyond the point of shame. His body convulsed and shook as his breathing grew erratic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading and yell at us below.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath and a proposal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember that some of you actually wanted this to happen.

_Good job, Armand. Really. No wonder you don’t have any friends._ **SHUT UP!** Timmy was what was important now. He went after him but kept his distance. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to call someone?” He asked, rubbing his arms. Suddenly he felt chilly even though the day was still hot and humid. The utter distress in Timmy’s body made Armie’s own stomach turn. _Please, let it be okay._ He begged. “Timmy. Tim. You need to breathe. Don’t panic. It can all be alright again, yeah?” He asked and moved closer. Was it a good idea to touch him? He was quite aware that the trigger had been his refusal. God, he needed to do something to make it stop or he’d lose him forever! It was a split second decision when he moved to kneel next to Timmy on the floor and cupped his head. He was aware he’d taste of puke but didn’t care as he pressed their lips together. Hoping against rationality it’d make their problems go away.

Timmy struggled to breathe with Armie’s lips on his but he was unwilling to pull away. Maybe this was the last chance he would ever get. But wait, what was happening? Hadn’t Armie said, _30 seconds ago,_ that he didn’t love him that way? The confusion made the room spin again. The tears didn’t stop streaming down his face, but at this point, what was left to hide? He had no dignity left, not even in the eyes of his closest friend. He put his hands on Armie’s chest and pushed him away, separating their lips. “Don’t pity me. Don’t kiss me because you feel bad that I’m just some stupid fucking kid who’s in love with you.” Timmy leaned his back against the wall behind him, energy entirely drained. He had ruined the best thing in life. 

Armie looked at the ground. He’d been right. Timmy had tasted of his own puke. “It’s not like that,” he said when it was exactly like that. He didn’t want things to be ruined between them. “You’re not stupid. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. I mean that,” he said and looked up at him now. That was something he believed in, truly. He never got to have conversations like those with anyone else. “I still want to be your friend, Timmy. More than everything else. And I don’t know- I’d be ready to give you the physical aspect of a relationship at least.” What he said only registered after he’d said it. Shit, he couldn’t do that! He was still married! Did he just offer to physically cheat so they could stay friends? Yes, he had. And honestly, it would be worth it. It was selfish and incredibly cruel but it would bind Timmy to him. “If that helps you I mean if not... I guess you can always slap me?” He suggested.

“So you’re attracted to me but you just love me like a brother? God, that’s even worse.” Timmy’s head fell back into his hands. How had he so thoroughly lost control of this moment? The big reveal was supposed to be full of honor and honesty, not puking and pity and… whatever this was. If Armie loved him, felt a true and intimate emotional connection with him, and was interested in...physicality, what was so goddamn wrong with Timmy’s personality that Armie’s feelings couldn’t cross the platonic barrier?

_Attracted?_ It was a strong word. Was he attracted to Timmy? He knew that he was beautiful, like an angel with his pale skin, red lips, and dark hair but was he attracted to that? He had no problem imagining kissing him often or wrestling with him. They’d even bring each other off. He could see it. But was he attracted to that? “I’m not good. And I’m not good at this being friends thing. I just- I don’t want to lose you. Please, Timmy. I said so many stupid things today. Tell me what to do to fix this.” He pleaded. He didn’t know how to go forward from here. Timmy was _in love_ with him and Armie tried to hold on to the shreds of their friendship after stomping on them first. It was a shit show. An utter shit show. He sank against the wall next to Timmy.

“I don’t know. It’s not… It’s no one’s fault that you don’t feel that way. And that’s okay, I guess. I mean it hurts more than I ever fucking thought possible, but it’s fine.” Maybe if he said it out loud enough times, it would start to feel fine. “I just… I don’t want anything to change the way you look at me, man. I don’t want you to pity me for being broken by this.” Timmy could tell that Armie was hurting too, so he extended on a kindness. He scooted close and rested his head on Armie’s shoulder. “Your friendship means enough for me to sit through the hurt. We’ll figure it out. Maybe it’ll even hurt less eventually.”

“I can try to hook you up. Be your wingman,” he suggested. “Find you someone who makes you happy instead of breaking your heart.” He wrapped his arm around Timmy’s shoulders. “It won’t change how I look at you. I won’t let it.” He promised. “I won’t.” He nuzzled his nose into Timmy’s curls. “Tonight we are going out to the club and I’ll make sure you’ll meet someone nice.” He promised.

“Armie, you can’t do that anymore.” Timmy put his palm on Armie’s cheek as he nuzzled Timmy’s curls. “Especially now that you know. I just don’t think it’s good for me to wrestle with you or… How am I supposed to get over it if we keep doing this?” As painful as it was to think about not being so physical with Armie anymore, Timmy knew they had to stop. It would just keep rekindling a useless hope, one that would get repeatedly crushed. He couldn’t afford to nervous-vomit every time his heart cracked; there would never be anything left in his stomach.

Armie frowned. “I’m not allowed to wrestle with you anymore?” He asked devastated. “How am I going to punish you for being cocky?” His hands shot out and found a particularly sensitive spot in Timmy’s side. It instantly had the desired effect. “But that’s just us being friends.” He pouted but Timmy’s glance made it very clear. “Alright, alright. No touching.” He leaned his head back against the wall when he remembered he still had a show tonight. Panicked, he pulled out his phone and discovered they’d have to leave soon to make it. “Alright. Showtime. Are you coming?” He asked, not sure if Timmy was even interested anymore.

“Yeah, yeah, just let me change and rinse the puke out of my mouth.” While Timmy didn’t really feel up to meeting Armie’s castmates or being social, he knew that if he stayed in the apartment alone his thoughts would fester and he would end up wallowing. “And it’s not that we can’t touch,” he said, using the wall the help himself up and make sure his legs were ready to bear his weight again. “But wrestling to punish me for being cocky? You have to admit… it’s kind of sexual.”

Armie cocked his head and grinned. “Depends, I guess,” he admitted and pushed himself up as well. “Don’t move so fast, though. I’m worried about your precious little brain in there.” He made clear. “I’m just- ugh. I’m gonna wait outside.”   
It felt weird standing in the hallway to allow Timmy his privacy. And of course, the old woman came to bother him. She was very sweet but Armie didn’t really feel up to a conversation with the pending show and Timmy’s confession in his head.

Timmy took a few deep breaths before getting up, hoping it would help him steady himself. He rinsed his mouth out and brushed his teeth at the sink. The mirror was right in front of him but he kept his eyes downcast; he didn’t want to know what he looked like. He found a pair of jeans and a button-up shirt, hoping they would be nice enough for the theater. Was he really up for going to the club tonight? He didn’t think Armie acting as wingman would be all that helpful. As long as he was there, Timmy would be wishing that whoever he was dancing (or more) with was him. He knew time was of the essence if they were going to make Armie’s call time, so he slipped the shirt over his shoulders and began to button it as he walked into the hallway to meet Armie. 

"Yeah, no it turned out his ankle is okay. He insists on coming to my show tonight," Armie explained to Vimini as the door opened and Timmy stepped out. Armie's eyes dropped to the sliver of skin he could see since Timmy was just closing the last buttons and lost his thought. "Uhm, yeah." He stuttered. _Attracted._ "We- uhm, we need to go. I need to be on time and- yeah. Timmy, are you coming?" He asked.   
Vimini was looking between them with one of those smiles that said she knew exactly what was going on but didn't want to share it. "Of course, I understand. You young people are always in such a hurry. Be a dear and drop by my apartment some time, yeah Timmy? I'll make you pie again and you can tell me how it was." She suggested.

“As soon as I’m back from London, I’m all yours.” Timmy gave her a kiss on the forehead before he and Armie tuned to leave. “What were the two of you talking about?” Timmy asked as they bounded down the stairs. Armie had looked deep in thought when he opened the door into the hallway. Timmy struggled a bit on the stairs, but did his best to not let it show; he was still feeling weak but had already caused enough trouble for Armie today. He couldn’t also make him late for his call time. “I guess she couldn’t have spilled any secrets you don’t already know…” Timmy added, trying to add a bit of levity to the situation despite the immense weight he felt in his chest. 

Armie shrugged. “Told me that you’re a good boy. Never noisy, always polite, knows his manners. You know how it is.” He pointed out. She had also told him that he could count himself lucky with such a catch. Objectively he knew she was right. Anyone should be honoured to have him but Armie is married for god’s sake! Why him? He adored Timmy but wasn’t in love with him. He jumped the last three stairs so that he saw as Timmy stumbled on the last step. He managed to save him luckily by grabbing him by his arms. “I told you to slow,” Armie scolded softly and lifted him by the waist to put him on the ground. He knew he wasn’t allowed to do this even if it felt right so he let his arms fall to his sides quickly.

“I don’t want to be the reason you’re late for your call.” He did his best to forget what Armie had done the second his hands were off his waist. Was he really not going to be able to learn? Was this kind of touching so crucial to their relationship that without it, they would fall apart? They’d have to talk about it again, but what was really left to say? “Subway or cab?” Timmy asked as they left the building, needing to fill the air with something. 

Armie wrinkled his nose. “Only you would suggest taking the subway on a day when your skin is already melting off your body”. It meant cab again and being alone but better than being recognised. “And I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me,” he assured Timmy and hailed them a cab. Now he could forget all of what just happened and get choked by his usual anxiety before a show. He knotted his hands together and dug his nails into skin to prevent getting lost in an attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. He did that. Please give him time to work things out. It's not that easy to admit some things to yourself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Anxiety attacks
> 
> We are finally moving closer to Armie's show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that this was written long before SWM happened and it was mere speculation how Armie would deal with live theatre. He turned out to be quite happy with it I think but here he's struggling quite a bit more.

As they sat silently next to each other in the cab, Timmy noticed Armie’s hands. They were in his classic anxiety formation, Armie trying to cause himself enough physical pain to forget about the emotional pain bubbling beneath the surface. He knew Armie well enough to recognize this even though they had never mentioned it out loud. Despite the conversation they had just had, seeing Armie hurt caused Timmy even more pain. It was all too raw right now and Timmy couldn’t take it, couldn’t watch Armie hurt in that way in addition to everything he himself was feeling. He slowly reached into Armie’s lap and put both his hands over Armie’s. Slowly, he unknotted each of Armie’s fingers and put each disentangled hand on one of Armie’s thighs. Only then did Timmy look up and make eye contact. 

Armie looked up at him as well. He couldn’t believe how someone could bare himself with such a confession, get such a shitty response, and still care at the end of it all. It reminded him how Vimini had said that he was sometimes even too good. She knew Armie didn’t deserve any of this. It was not hard to see, he thought. Anyone looking at them would be quick to tell apart with whom they’d stay in contact and who they only add on Facebook to be polite. Timmy was too good for him and if he wasn’t careful he’d be breaking his beautiful wings. “Thank you.” He mumbled. “You know I don’t really realise...” he shrugged and turned his hands to squeeze Timmy’s quickly. “I’m okay.” He quickly reassured him. “Fully functional.” He winked, hoping it would be enough to convince the other.

“Don’t realize what?” Timmy asked, his breath catching at the squeeze from Armie’s hands. Maybe he’d been wrong about shutting down the idea of a physical relationship. He knew it would end up crushing him, getting so close to what he deeply wanted more than he’d ever wanted anything, but never quite getting there. But maybe that was better than not getting close at all? It would have to eventually end in devastation, but he could do his best to hold on to it for as long as possible, to revel in how it could all be even if it was temporary and they both knew it. It had to have been a real offer, right? A married person would hardly offer something like that lightly, Timmy thought. 

Armie glanced down at their hands. “When I’m doing that. I don’t realise I get caught up in my head or rather I do but I start coping automatically. It’s all-“ he paused. This was not something he usually told people. This was not even something he had told Elizabeth a whole lot about. She knew and usually told him to just snap out of it when it became too much. But it felt right to tell Timmy. They’d been very raw and honest before, hell Timmy had confessed he loved him. He deserved to know what a fuck up he was. Perhaps it would help him pull back even. “I get all caught up in my head and I start fidgeting. Like this. It helps me focus because then it’s suddenly a whirlwind of doubt and I don’t-“ He took a ragged breath. “I don’t know how to deal. What’s right or what’s real. It’s just-“ He gestured to his head. “I don’t know. Have you ever wondered why and then wondered why you wondered? It’s like that but with ten thousand questions at the same time. Like you have too many tabs open at the same time and suddenly somewhere music starts and you hear groaning and fear you have porn open in one of the tabs and your mom is about to walk into the room? I don’t know if I make any sense right now? I better shut up. I shouldn’t even have said something in the first place. Why do I always start babbling and saying stupid stuff?” He forced himself to take a deep breath and realised his fingers were now digging into Timmy’s skin.

Timmy had never seen Armie let that much spill out of him before. It was entirely disarming. They had certainly had raw, exposed moments before, and Timmy could always see the complexity of Armie’s thought patterns through his eyes, but this was different. Armie was rarely one to vocalize his anxieties like this. “It’s not stupid at all.” Timmy let Armie dig into his hands and did his best not to flinch at Armie’s strength. “You’re trying to articulate something irrational and inarticulable. I’d be more concerned if you were making a lot of sense.” Timmy nudged Armie’s shoulder with his own. “I’m sorry if I-... I shouldn’t have said anything. It was selfish and I didn’t think about how it might affect you, especially right before a show. Fuck, dude.” It was Timmy’s turn to nuzzle into Armie’s shoulder. “Just tell me what you need me to do to make it better.”

Armie shook his head. How can someone be so sweet and loving? It just didn’t make sense. It was certainly not something Armie had much of. Timmy had asked him what he should do. For a moment his head was swimming, the word _attracted_ shadowing it all. He hadn’t really thought about this before but since Timmy had offered he couldn’t stop thinking about it. But that was stupid. It would only make everything worse. Armie shrugged. There’s nothing that could cure this. The idea to call in sick was almost too enticing to be turned down but he didn’t want to be controlled by his fears. It was his biggest strength and greatest weakness at once. And he knew there would be a show after this one and then a show after this. “Just don’t freak out. Or try to. This is- it’s just the start,” he admitted, feeling shame wash over him. He closed his eyes. What he wanted to ask was for Timmy to hold him but that’s not something they could do now and he knew that. He understood.

“Freak out? You know me better than that. I’m right here. And I will be as long as you need me.” Timmy pulled his hands back and wrapped them around Armie’s back. “And maybe after that too.” The cab pulled up to the curb in front of the stage door. Before Armie could reach into his pocket, Timmy covered the fare. “Let’s go break some legs, dude.” The two of them walked into the building together, and Timmy remembered the instant magic of being backstage. He could feel the pre-show energy buzzing in the air as he followed Armie to his dressing room. 

Armie zoned out as he usually did when he entered the building. It was a defense mechanism, otherwise, he’d go insane. As long as he was busy he was fine. He followed a routine: emptying a water bottle first, eating a banana. Then he took the costume from the rack and turned to Timmy, who’d been watching quietly. “Are you gonna turn around and let a blushing maiden change?” He asked. It was a low blow but he could only suspect how weird it was to watch him retreat completely behind his walls and masks and shells. That’s not something Luca had allowed him, but here he had to.

“Do...do you want me to?” Timmy was sitting in the chair next to the mirror. As his own panic faded, it became more and more replaced by his hormones. He began to seriously reconsider being physical with Armie, imaging in his mind’s eye what it would be like. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair, crossing his legs to make sure Armie couldn’t see anything. He knew that Armie was anxious and suffering, and in all honesty, so was he, and that this wasn’t a particularly appropriate time for it, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. His mind flashed back to earlier that day, before everything had gone wrong. Wrestling. That brief kiss. The way Armie leaned into it instead of shying away. God, was that only this morning?

Armie shrugged. He didn’t care about much at this point. “Nothing you’ve never seen before.” He said. Timmy was old enough to decide for himself whether this was too much or not. Armie slipped out of his pants and shirt quickly before changing into his new outfit. He mentally went over the most important lines. The ones he always kept fucking up. When he was fully changed he let himself fall into the chair next to Timmy’s. “Make-up should be here any second.” He explained. He hated this part. It involved waiting. He kicked back and closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing and assure himself that this show would go over. Just like the others had, this one would pass. It was a small comfort. It also meant the next show would come. Time was inevitable and that was a nice constant. It would be over. In a few hours he could forget about it for another few hours. It still felt like he was slipping though. Like he was about to die. The dread had mounted in his stomach and was hot and heavy. He tilted his head to look at Timmy. “Can I take your hand?” He asked sheepishly.

Timmy didn’t answer, just took Armie’s hand in his own and intertwined their fingers. “What are you thinking about?” he asked, hoping that having him say it out loud might alleviate it a bit, help him get it off of his chest. But, before Armie could get anything out, Timmy had an idea. “Oh, wait! Wanna do some of our pre-filming routine from Crema?” It had been such a transformative experience for everyone there under the northern Italian sun that summer. Maybe bringing a little bit of that sunshine into this windowless dressing room might help Armie breathe a little easier. 

God, Crema. Armie missed that. He’d been raw there and went to his limits as well but it had been different. He’d never had to be this scared. “Which part of our prep work do you mean? Where we got amazing espressos and warm pastries every morning? Where got drunk and read lines together? Where Luca left us making out in the grass for god knows how long? You have to be a bit more specific, Timmy,” Armie mumbled. He tried to hold on and not go crazy with doubt and fear here. Perhaps it was a good idea. Crema reminded him of being safe and Timmy’s touch comforted him.

 

Timmy stood up and walked closer. Memories of Crema flooded back. Everything felt so easy then. Not that the performance was easy, but everything flowed. He and Armie had gotten along instantly, barely even needing to make introductions. It was like the world outside didn’t exist, and external worries rarely penetrated the atmosphere Luca created for those 6 weeks. Timmy would give anything to go back, but was also afraid it could never be what it was then. The sequel scared him. “I was thinking more along the lines of standing on your feet. Weighted blankets are supposed to be good for anxiety. Maybe I can be your weighted blanket?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else freaked out when Timmy revealed that story in the commentary?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's talk about that offer again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this was written long before the play actually happened so we were working with wishes and assumptions here.

It was an idea only Timmy could have. But his hand felt good in his and some body pressure may indeed be grounding for him. “Alright.” He said quietly, not daring to question Timmy’s decision. He stood up and after a short moment of contemplation walked over to the wall, stood with his back to it. Timmy followed and Armie had nearly forgotten how close this brought them when he took one step closer. And another. He felt Timmy’s delicate hand on his shoulder and, then one foot on his. Then the other. The hard edges of the soles of the shoes were missing, so he looked down to discover Timmy had taken them off. It felt good, his hand naturally fell on Timmy’s hips and pulled him closer. A deep breath escaped him and he closed his eyes. Caged in between Timmy and the wall he felt a little safer.

Timmy closed his eyes, hoping to remember every detail of the moment; he hadn’t been sure that Armie would agree to this. As Armie’s hands made their way to his hips, Timmy sank into his chest, concentrating on his own breathing. He had forgotten what it was like to feel their hip bones press together unapologetically, to almost melt into each other. He moved his arms from Armie’s shoulders and clasped them around the back of his neck for more stable balance. “A little better?” Timmy whispered. 

Armie completely focused on Timmy’s breathing, letting everything else fade away. Time would come and time would pass. “Yes. Thank you.” He mumbled. He pressed them a little closer together so he could not only hear his stable breaths, but also feel them. Inhale. Exhale. It was pretty simple. And Timmy would be here even after the show. He’d be _here_. He closed his eyes and rested his head on Timmy’s shoulder. “Thank you.” He repeated and squeezed him a little.

Armie pressing himself into Timmy just a bit more sent him over the edge. He tried to steady his breathing so his breathlessness didn’t come across in his voice. With Armie’s head on his shoulder, all he had to do was whisper in his ear. “This is maybe not the greatest time but, but...um, I reconsidered your suggestion from earlier. About the...physical aspect?” This is not how Timmy had imagined this surprise visit going, but everything already felt so off the rails, so out of control, that he surrendered to it. Strategically, he figured it might be difficult for Armie to rescind the offer with their hips practically grinding together. 

Armie didn’t really want to think about the stupid offer he’d made. It wouldn’t be a problem if he wasn’t married. But he was. It had been something he didn’t think about. He had just wanted to make Timmy happy and that was something which he could give him. They had always been very physical with each other and Armie couldn’t say he had minded them making out for god knows how long to break the ice. But it turned out there were more factors to consider than he had thought off. “Timmy, can we... not now? The show… we’ll talk about it later okay?” He promised. He just wanted to enjoy it for the simple contact of two humans who cared about each other.

Timmy knew what that meant. “Yeah, okay. I, um… I have to go to the bathroom.” He removed his hands from around Armie’s neck and stepped off of Armie’s feet. He was in such a rush to get out of that suffocating room that he didn’t bother putting his shoes on. Eyes blurry from the tears welling inside them, Timmy wandered backstage until he found a bathroom. Why would Armie make that offer if he wasn’t serious? It felt cruel. And why would Timmy set himself up for rejection again like that? He tried to remind himself how Armie had looked on the way to the theater, tried to remember that there was something causing him pain and anxiety, that he was hurting too. It had been a long, emotionally and physically exhausting day and Timmy wasn’t sure how much more of it he could take. He sat on the toilet in his jeans for 10 minutes, remembering that he used to do the same when he was feeling overwhelmed at school. 

Armie paced the room, started going through his lines again but found his eyes inevitably drawn to Timmy’s shoes again. He’d fucked it up. Timmy was angry at him, disappointed. It had been clear as day. And still Armie thought the show mattered more. What an idiot he was! He wouldn’t walk on the stage before he cleared the air. He grabbed the shoes and started searching. Theoretically, he could’ve gone anywhere, but he had found an overwhelmed Timmy often in toilet stalls, so he started searching them. Most were busy and he knew Timmy wouldn’t choose these. It took him a while but he found him in a small one, far away from where the actors and actresses were gathered. “Timmy?” He asked, seeing that one stall was locked. He crouched down and saw sock-clad feet retreating. “Timmy, will you let me explain?” He asked softly and pushed the shoes under the door like a peace offering. “You know I’m not going out there before we resolve this,” he made clear. He wondered why he felt so calm suddenly. But this was important and he was sure of only wanting the best for Timmy.

Timmy balled up some toilet paper to wipe the few tears that had escaped onto his cheeks. He knew his eyes would be red, but he wouldn’t be able to fix it fast enough. He unlocked the stall door, letting it slowly swing open instead of actually opening it himself. “Yes.” He said. “You’re allowed to explain. I know I picked a bad time to bring it up again.” Timmy felt like such a burden. It felt like he consistently made Armie’s life significantly more complicated and he started to wonder whether staying in Armie’s life was making it worse for him. 

When Timmy came into view, Armie wanted to take him into his arms right away. He looked miserable. No, he looked like _shit_. “Yes, and I want you to know that I was sincere. Both times.” He made clear. “I made that offer for a reason but I have to admit that it’s more complicated than I let myself think about right away.” He explained and extended a hand hoping Timmy would take it and come closer or at least say anything. He breathed out and tried to look at him, really look at him again. It was a great risk he’d offered to take for Timmy and he wasn’t a cheater. But he didn’t feel like what he had with Timmy was comparable to what he had with Elizabeth. But right now, with Timmy, that felt important. Like a connection that he couldn’t pass up, a chance he had to take, a path he had to choose. Everything in his life had brought them here, right here into this shitty bathroom backstage with an offer lying between them. “The offer still stands.” He said quietly.

Timmy exhaled in what was, for once, vaguely pleasant surprise. He reached his hand out to meet Armie’s and let Armie pull him up with it. As soon as he got onto his feet, Timmy wrapped his arms around him. “Thank you,” he whispered almost inaudibly, his face pressed into Armie’s chest. Timmy hoped desperately that the emotional whiplash was over now, that there would be no more switching back and forth, no more changing minds. But, as always, Timmy was still plagued by self-doubt. “I don’t understand why I’m important enough to you that you would do this...this thing that you don’t even really want.” Timmy could’ve easily just been another co-star to Armie and he could never understand why he wasn’t. He knew why he got attached so quickly, but Armie? Armie was accomplished, older, so so intelligent, handsome and Timmy was, well...Timmy. It had never made sense to him. 

Armie pulled back to look at him, his confusion clearly written all over his face. “That thing that I don’t want? You don’t understand why you’re important to me?” He asked, shocked that Timmy could even think something like this. Where should he even start expressing how wrong Timmy was? “But Timmy, I want this. I do. I wouldn’t have offered otherwise. This is so important to me and- I want to be close to you more than anything else. Being physical in that sense is just another way for us to be that. Right? You said I’m attracted to your body but while I find you generally attractive it’s your mind I’m attracted to. I want to be around you and have long talks and if we kiss and have sex after it then I think it will feel good and we’ll both enjoy it. I never minded what we had to do in Crema. It was always easy. That’s why I think this is important. It’s an offer that’s worth it. Do you understand that?” He explained quietly. “You asking me why you’re important to me after you just grounded me during an anxiety attack is pretty ridiculous, don’t you think?” He asked and gave a lopsided smile. “Come here.” He pulled him back into his arms.

Timmy’s mind was reeling with questions, but he was too afraid to ask any of them for fear of messing up whatever this was. Sex? Armie was willing to go all the way there? As it turned out, the whiplash wasn’t over. Timmy leaned all of his body weight against Armie. “What is even happening anymore,” Timmy said, barely a question. He slowly lifted his head from Armie’s chest and tilted his chin up. Moving slowly onto his tiptoes, giving Armie enough time to pull away, though desperately hoping he wouldn’t. Slowly, their lips met. Timmy’s chest was still full of anxiety, but it felt more like butterflies than daggers now. The kiss was short and soft; Timmy thought this was something they should ease into. “I can’t believe I got to do that twice today,” he whispered, pulling away. 

Armie still had his eyes closed when he heard Timmy words and was trying to figure out what was happening inside of him. He had expected it to feel like in Crema. The touch of their lips more like an afterthought. It had been one of the things not stressing him out. Which ultimately had stressed him out because it had felt too easy, too comfortable. Now his chest was tight, he could barely breathe and his nerve endings are tickling. It was clear something had changed between then and now. He remembered he should probably open his eyes, say something, so he did. All words vanished when he looked at Timmy, though. There was nothing different about him than just a few seconds before, the kiss too short to even redden his lips. But he was different, or at least the way Armie looked at him was different.  
“HAMMER! I hope for your sake, you have your makeup already done. The show starts in _minutes_!”  
Armie’s face changed from pale to red and back. “I-Uhm- I have to go. Tell someone you’re here with me. They’ll give you a seat.” He turned around and left the bathroom, head still spinning. As he was running down the corridor he touched his lips remembering what Timmy’s felt like against his.

Timmy blushed. “I uh… I’ll go out to the house,” he called as Armie made his way down the hall. As he made his way out to find a seat, he thought about how excited he had been to see Armie on stage, to be able to share the experience with him, to talk about it for hours afterward. Now he was afraid that he wasn’t going to be able to focus on the play at all, his mind wandering back to Crema, to wrestling earlier that morning, to the kiss they just shared. Timmy made it to a seat with the playbill in hand. As he flipped through it, he stopped on the page with Armie’s headshot. Next to it was the bio Armie had written for himself. Timmy’s eye caught on the last few sentences: “And immense gratitude and thank you to my best friend Timmy, who has shown me how to be a better actor, father, and man. I would not and could not be where I am today without you, T.” Timmy wasn’t supposed to be in New York at all this summer. Armie had written it thinking he would never see it. Just as Timmy read the last words, the lights began to fade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whiplash continues! Feel free to check out our new story: [Captain Calling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17817311/chapters/42037970) if you like our writing. :D


End file.
